I love wearing scarves and gloves and walking to work through the snow. I like having to carry my jacket with me on summer evenings. I love rainstorms.
So why on Earth--with its many places that aren't as hot as Phoenix--do I live here?
It was 96 degrees Fahrenheit this morning at 9:00AM. June 2. Pretty soon we'll begin our 93 so so consecutive days of 100-118 degree temps, where it never gets anywhere near cool even in the middle of the night. I have a friend in Colorado--the Rocky Mountain part--and it snowed there last week. In late May. Oklahoma's been terrorized by deadly destructive tornadoes lately. I remember weeks on end in Poland where the daytime highs never rose above freezing.
Everywhere has its pros and cons, and everyone has different tolerances. I have friends here in Phoenix who are like, "yeah, it's a little hot" while I'm struggling to even breathe through the blast-furnace heat, and would literally die if I had to work outside in it for 8 hours at my job. These same people think they're going to die when it dips to 55 degrees Fahrenheit, while I'm skipping around happy as a lark, walking around in short sleeves. When it rains for two days in a row here, the newscaster are like, "When will this EVER END?" They should spend a few months in Ketchikan or Seattle.
I think the trick is to try to find a place where the bad things about the weather are the things you personally don't mind so much. Give me five months of sub-freezing temperatures over 5 months of 100 plus temperature any day.
I need to move.